Jumping down holes and swallowing
Pills that change my size
Always his blue eyes that fill rooms,
My heart can’t handle shrinking
Into some small cocoon,
Expanding into some Aurora Borealis
Always his hands that hug tightly,
My body can’t handle the gravity,
Falling into some elusive world of that
Four-letter word
I sit alone, waving at my Alice,
Trying to unravel a childhood fear of home
Jennifer Hollie Bowles writes to prolong breathing. She is the editor of The Medulla Review, a venue that caters to edgy, surreal, slip-stream writing. She has been published in blossombones, Counterexample Poetics, Word Riot, and The Ampersand Review, The New York Quarterly, Echo Ink Review, Caper Literary Journal, DecomP, among others.